Legilimens Maximums
by tellmamatobuggeroff
Summary: The bane of my existence. A spell that allows a group of people to perform legilimens on a single person. Just in case. Because it will make us safe. No matter how you describe it, LM will make my life hell in about three seconds. Want to watch?
1. The Beginning: Mind Invasion

The Beginning: Mind Invasion

Legilimens Maximus: the bane of my existence. Performed correctly, and by a powerful enough wizard (namely Dumbledore), Legilimens Maximus allows a large group of people to perform legilimency at once. The only person who needs to be able to perform legilimency is the powerful wizard (or witch), the rest of the group merely needs to be mentally connected to the wizard. The mental connection is simple, as well. The group only needs to focus their thoughts on the wizard attempting Legilimens Maximus and not let their thoughts stray.

Legilimens Maximus has helped me quite a few times, and has saved my life. But now, tied to this chair in the middle of a group of extremely angry and suspicious Order members, in the middle of a war, with my best friend (and lover) tied to the chair next to me, Legilimens Maximus will most likely destroy me and everything I hold dear.

"Will you, Severus Snape, allow us to perform Legilimens Maximus on you if the occasion ever calls for it, with or without your future consent."

Those had been the words Dumbledore had cheerfully and dutifully recited when the Order first decided to impliment Legilimens Maximus, or LM as it had come to be called by the Order members. He spoke the same words to every Order member in a rather long ceremony. 'LM will provide additional safety' Moody had assured everyone. 'Just in case Snape goes bad' I had heard Ronald Weasley mumble to Potter. 'It will be helpful' Molly Weasley had murmured softly. But whatever the reason was, LM was now _not_ helpful. It was not providing safety, either, so that must mean that, yes, it was being used because, _apparently_ 'Snape had gone bad'.

"Severus." Dumbledore's gravely and sad voice said quietly. "I will now perform Legilimens Maximus on you. Please lower you Occlumency shields."

And the horrible thing was, I had to comply. I had agreed to this, I had taken an oath, and now I had to comply.

Lowering my shields was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. They had been firmly in place for over twenty years and over those twenty years, only three people had had the opportunity to pass the very outer shield. No one had gotten past the inner most one, but now, I had to lower them all. Fighting hard against my natural instinct that was screaming at me to raise them again, I let my shields fall and felt rather suddenly naked.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and then, with about thirty Order members circling me (Molly, Arthur, and six of their children, Shacklebolt, Potter, Tonks, Lupin, Black, Moody, McGonagall, Poppy, and a few others who I do not care to name) spoke the two words that would either doom me or set me free. It would take browsing through my life to determine which.

"Legilimens Maximus!"

-break-

I could feel Dumbledore browsing through my mind, pushing through all the recent memories to get to the very first ones. It was a rather invasive and horrible experience to have so many people looking over my private thoughts and memories. And then, they got to the first one and horrible and invasive didn't even _begin_ to cover what thirty Order members viewing my memorites felt like.

They watched the very first memory I had. I was about two years old and was sitting on my mothers lap with my chubby baby hands pressed curiously to a mirror. Behind me, my mother finished doing up her hair and began slipping in chandelier earrings. But my focus was on the child in across from me. Two year old me could not fathom how there was an exact replica of himself in this piece of glass, and it was beginning to anger him. His wide and normally happy black eyes narrowed dangerously at the mirror and his furious little hands closed to fists against the glass. His tiny face screwed up into a scowl that would later become trademark and the entire mirror exploded. Luckily, the pieces of glass somehow didn't even touch him and the two year old only smirked at the scattering of sharp glass that encircled him as he fell to sit on his bum. The evil copycat in the funny rectangle was gone, and the boy was once again pleased.

His mother, however, was not. Her face was horrified as she turned toward the child, one hand still holding an earring to her ear as she gaped at him. 

"No." She whimpered. "Oh Sev, _no._ _Please _no_._"

"He's like _YOU!_" A furious snarl sounded from behind mother and child. Both turned at the sound of his voice.

"Dada!" The child's voice exclaimed happily. 'Ook 'ook! Aw gone!" He gave a happy giggle.

But the man was not swayed.

"You swore he wouldn't be like you!" The father roared at the now cowering woman.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know! I thought... maybe... I'm sorry!" She sobbed.

The man backhanded her fiercly. "You lying slut!" He hissed.

The child, who was no longer giggling and happy, sat stunned into silence on the floor. He didn't know what some of the words his father was screaming meant, but he knew they weren't good. And his father had _hit_ his mum. So hard that she was now lying on the ground amongst the glass.

"Dada?" He said uncertainly, and the man that was tall but thin with broad, strong shoulders turned in anger toward the child.

"You _freak_." The man snarled. "You will not call by that insufferable name! You will address me with _respect_. Even with your abominable heritage I am still your father and you will call me Father!"

Sev whimpered as the man picked him up roughly and walked quickly to the small room that was his before almost throwing him in his crib.

"Fucking freak." The man snarled as he turned off the light and slammed the door shut, leaving Sev in darkness, wondering why his beautiful mummy was screaming.

-break-

I lost track of the amount of memories we went through after that. There were very few happy ones, maybe one or two, possibly three. Most of my memories consisted of my father, my mother and myself.

The Order watched my father beat me, slapped me, forced me to cook and clean, and sold my body. Yes, that's right, I was a prostitute, beginning at age nine, for all of my father's sick friends, and occasionally my father himself. Not once did my mother attempt to stop it, and she knew, too. How could she not with all the screaming I did when I was younger.

I could feel the Order's disgust as they watched the first time I was 'sold'. Father had tied me to a wall in the basement. Where he had gotten the shackles and chains that held my arms to the wall, I still didn't know. They watched as my young face looked up hopefully as the basement door opened and two pairs of boots clomped down the wood stairs to the dark basement that was more a stone room than a basement.

"There he is." Father's gravelly voice said. "Pay up and I'll leave you to 'im." The man with Father smiled evilly and brought out a wallet, pulling several bills out and pressing them against Father's hand.

"Father?" My young voiced asked, slightly fearful. And then a moment later with more fear, "_Father!_"

Dumbledore moved on quickly.

-break-

The Order watched my friendship with Lily and my first year at Hogwarts with slight interest. They watched as James Potter and the rest of his friends bullied me as much as an eleven year old could.

"Hey look, Sirius! It's Snivillus the Snake!" Potter sneered as they came swaggering up to me as I scrambled to snag all the books on the floor that had fallen out of my hands after Black had hexed me. I watched as first year me sighed quietly to himself.

"Hey Snivvy! How ya like bein' a Slytherin? I heard they treat all the first years to a special..._ massage_ over there." Black sneered with a suggestive leer. The boy shuddered as the implications that Black'swords were revealed. "They don't do that in Gryffindor, though. But, that's right,you wouldn't know, 'cuz you're just a snake." Black jeered, kicking the books that Sev had just picked up out of his hands. The duo then walked away, chuckling with each other.

"What did I _do_." Young Severus whispered to himself as he closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment before sighing and picking up the books again.

More memories few by after that. They watched more bullying, watched my friendship with Lily grow, watched it fail, and watched my desperate apology and what happened afterward.

Lily had stormed back into the common room and Severus had turned around and started walking when it had hurriedly open againa and Severus had turned back around quickly, and then wished he hadn't. Striding quickly to him were two boys that wasted no time in throwing him agains the wall. Potter grabbed the front of his robes and got very close to him. Too close.

"What did you do Snape!" Potter snarled at him, so close to Severus that his chest pressed to Potter's. Severus began to feel fearful and slightly lightheaded. _No_. His mind protested. _I'm _safe_ here. Safe from _this_. Please, Potter. Just have mercy and hang me upside down again. Anything but this! I get this enough at home!_ "Well!" Potter yelled, shaking him slightly. But Severus was too focused on not hyperventilating and passing out. This position was too similar to the ones he'd experienced with the... buyers.

"Nothing!" He gasped finally. Potter slammed him against the wall again and then let him fall, gasping for air. Once he was down a foot slammed into his ribs, causing pain to flame through his body.

"Stay away from her you freak! I fucking mean it!" Potter snapped, and then turned and left with Black, leaving Severus to his broken rib.

-break-

They watched my Death Eater initiation.

I didn't want them to see that memory, especially. I didn't want them to see the muggles I hurt; the wife I raped and the husband that I tortured and killed. _I_ didn't want to see that memory.

They watched as I threw up after the ceremony, so sick with my actions that I couldn't hold down even a glass of water for three days afterward. Finally, I had given up trying to deal with it, and pushed the memory to the depths of my conciousness, surrounding it in Occlumency shields. Throughout the years, I shoved other Death Eater related memories back there as well.

They watched as I betrayed Lily and James Potter to Voldemort, telling him the prophecy. At the memory, I could feel the younger Potter almost vibrating with fury. They watched as I begged Dumbledore to protect the Potters. They watched as I became a spy and a teacher. They watched as I sat emotionlessly the night Voldemort was defeated the first time. They watched the years of teaching pass, nothing interesting happening. And then, they came to _that_ memory.

Sorting of the first years, with Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger. They watched as I sat through the ceremony up to the letter G, bored. They watched as I clapped unenthusiastically. They watched me watch a frizzy, brown haired girl walk nervously up to the hat. They felt my heart tug in my chest as our eyes connected briefly. And that one connection, for that one moment, changed everything, _meant_ everything. I could feel then that someday, that small child and I would have our fates, our _lives_, intertwined.

-break-

**Hey all! It's been a while, huh? Yes, this is a new story.**

**'Why hiddengrace? You have three that need finishing!' **

**Yes, I know, I'm bad. But, prepare yourselves and make sure you're sitting down!, I'm deleting them. Yes, you heard it right. **

**I am deleting Dance With The Devil, The Guardian, and Letters from Home. **

**Why DWTD? **

**Well, there are sooooooo many stories that I just found that have Hermione becoming a spy that as I read them, I began to feel that if I continued DWTD, I'd be beating a dead horse (sorry horsie!) Also, DWTD is beginning to bore me. But I do have a suggestion for you! If you liked DWTD you might like When A Lioness Fights. It's a brilliant Sev/Mione fanfic (not written by me!) that is inifinitely better written than DWTD. Check it out. **

**Why TG?**

**I'm bored and don't see it going anywhere. **

**Why LfH?**

**Bored and I like clicking things. Here I come delete button!**

**In conclusion, I'm sorry if you loved the story, couldn't live without it, and now want to kill me. I may (don't get your hopes up!) post DWTD, completely rewritten sometime **_**way**_** in the future. But, I dont know. Sorry guys, makes me sad too, even if they do bore me. :)**

**Oh, by the way:**

**Disclaimer: Again, not to beat a dead horse (*slam* why *slam* won't *slam* you *slam* respond! *slamslamslam*) but I don't own anything but the plot. :/**


	2. The Beginning: Years 1 and 2

The Beginning: Years 1 and 2

When I had first realised that I was... interested in Hermione Granger, I was horrified with myself. True, I hadn't been interested romantically, she simply caught my attention like no other. But no matter that, she was still only eleven, and I was disgusted with myself.

The Order watched my memories of her first year. They watched as I invented my riddle for the stone. They watched as Dumbledore asked me to spy on Quirrel. They watched as I considered resigning. They watched as I tried to save Potter on the Quidditch pitch, only to have my robes catch fire, which ended up, ironically, saving him. They watched as I warred with myself.

_'It's wrong, Severus. Get her out of your head. She's only a girl.'_

_'But it's not as though I'm in love with the chit; she merely fascinates me.'_

_'And I'm sure that what happened with you and all those... buyers... started as mere 'fascinations' as well.' _

I had frozen myself in my tracks with that one. It was true, more pedophiles started their 'careers' with only a fascination. I was not about to go down that road, and so I proceeded to 'hate' Hermione as well as I could. I began demeaning her in every way possible; giving her essays and her potions lesser grades than her work deserved, calling a know-it-all whenever possible, and ignoring her as much as I could. I'm sure that, subconciously, I believed that if I pretended enough, I eventually _would_ hate her. However, no matter how much I pretended, I still only wanted to sit down with her and a nice cup of tea and have a lengthy, intelligent discussion.

From that, though, I refrained.

-break-

The Order watched my memories of the end of Hermione's first year. They watched as I drowned myself in work to keep her from my mind throughout the three, long months that were summer. They watched as I failed and considered resigning again, just to make sure that I would not turn into my father. But, because I merely had wanted to pick apart her brain through intelligent and intellectual conversation, I decided against resigning for the second time.

They watched the remainder of my slow and unexciting summer, as I dreaded all the dunderheads that would soon be arriving. They watched me prepare lesson plans and countless potions for the infirmary that would heal the little miscreants as they fell and scraped their kness, or in Potter's case, fell and broke their bodies. They watched the beginning of Hermione's second year. They watched the countless potions classes, my rude behavior toward the students in general, and my (still failing) attempts to hate her. Then, they watched me assign her a detention for helping Neville after I had specifically told her not to.

-break-

"Ah, Miss Granger. Barely on time, I see." I sneered. Her face flushed pink.

"Sorry, sir." She mumbled.

"Of course you are."

More blushing.

"You will be scrubbing cauldrons while I work on this potion." I snapped at her as I pointed at the stack of cauldrons in the corner of the room, adjacent to where I was stirring the multi-purpose healing potion I was attempting to advance. My work was not going well.

After thirty minutes of scrubbing, she eventually spoke up, as I knew she would.

"Multi-purpose healing potion, sir?" She asked. I scowled at her.

"Silence!" She immediately ducked her head and scrubbed harder. I examined her form for a moment and then sighed and relented, rolling my eyes as I did so. "Yes, Miss Granger. The know-it-all in you has awakened, I see. Only you would know about a potion that you aren't supposed to learn about until fifth year." I grumbled. She was not, however, cowed.

She looked up again and nodded thoughtfully. "But you must have done something to it. Normally, the MP healing potion would be lavender in color, sir, and it would be slightly thinner than pudding. I'm supposing you added something to make it more watery, newt's blood, perhaps, which is used in fever reducing potions. And you also probably used pomegranate, which reduces dizzy-ness and would make the potion turn that reddish color-"

"Are you quite finished?" I interrupted, slightly impressed at the knowledge Miss Granger possessed in her second year. It wasn't even December yet, and she had already researched that much.

"Yes, sorry sir." She sighed. "I tend to get a bit... well, you would call it my 'know-it-all awakening', sir. I just like potions, very much."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Be that as it may, Miss Granger, I would advise you to reign in your tendancy to chatter a person's ear off. I, for one, and quite fond of my ears." I snarked at her. She blinked at me in response, then gave a small cough.

"Yes, sir." She said, and resumed scrubbing once more.

-break-

After that, the school year had come to a close quite quickly, in my opinion. I continued to fail in advancing the potion, as the Order saw, and my temper worsened each time until it no longer became difficult to snap at Hermione. Those days, there was always a degrading comment on the tip of my tongue, ready to be unleashed. And because I was supposed to be hating her, Hermione was an easy target to vent my anger and annoyance on.

The Order watched the end of the school year, as Potter (once again) saved the day and everyone involved. They watched my severe annoyance and extreme dislike of the boy manifest itself in the drinking I imbibed in over the summer. Of course, I rarely drank enough to get drunk, so the alcohol affected me all the more.

-break-

"Severus." Dumbledore sighed as he entered my chambers late one evening. He gave an almost eye-roll at my form, lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling contemplatively. An almost empty bottle of firewhiskey lay beside me. "You need to find a hobby, dear boy."

My drunken self lifted his head up off the floor and stared at Dumbledore as if he had three heads, which was entirely possible, considering the amount of alcohol I'd consumed.

"Like what, Headmashter." I slurred. "Shkiing?"

"No." The Headmaster said thoughtfully. "It's much too warm for that. Unless, of course, you wish to partake in water skiing. That is quite fun, you know." He said cheerfully.

I rolled my eyes at him, which proved to be not such a great idea when, instead of only three Dumbledores, there were seven.

"You've alwaysh had fantashtic ideash, Headmashter." I mumbled with a sigh. Dumbledore chuckled and then fished a potion that was light blue out of his robe.

"Drink up, Severus. You need to be sober for this conversation." He said, amusement coloring his tone.

I scowled at him. "I don't want to be shober." I grumbled petulantly before downing the potion and blinking at him in confusion before groaning, sitting up, and putting my head in my heads.

"Wha' the 'ell 'appened." I mumbled, my hangover extremely stong and quite painful. Dumbledore chuckled, which sounded to my hungover ears to be someone slamming two very large rocks together.

"You imbibed on too much alcohol, dear boy." Dumbledore almost snorted. The sight of me hungover _had_ always been sadistically hilarious to him.

"Uggghhhh... stop screaming." I moaned, covering my ears. Dumbledore partook in a round of laughter as he tossed me a bottle, which hit me square in the forehead, as a result of my uncooperating appendages. This, of course, resulted in another round of laughter.

After I had cleared my mind with a vial of the lemony green hangover cure, I was able to regain what dignity I had left.

"You said you wanted to have a conversation." I reminded him promptly as I waved my wand to right my rooms and settled into my favorite armchair.

"Yes, yes I did." Dumbledore murmured, sounding much more serious. "I am worried about Mr Potter, Severus."

"What about him, Albus." I sighed, impatient and not willing to hear yet another person sing praises about Potter. "The fact that he cannot go a single year without saving at least ten people from an untimely death?"

Albus looked amused for a moment. "Yes, actually. It worries me that he is so selfless and willing to put himself in harm's way."

"So lock him in a tower, all by his lonesome." I drawled. Dumbledore frowned at me.

"I would, but he'd probably go mad from lack of human interaction." He informed me. "I need you to watch over him. And the other two, as it seems that, where Mr Potter goes, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley follow."

"Like ducks." I snorted. "An amusing concept, that."

"Severus." Dumbledore said warningly. I sighed.

"Very well, Albus. I will keep an eye on the three ugly ducklings, if that is what you wish.

"You can never just say 'okay', can you?" Dumbledore said, shaking his head as he roused himself from my other armchair. "I will be going to bed now Severus. Pleasant dreams."

I merely grunted, my mind too busy thinking of ways to use this new assignment to my advantage.

-break-

**So, what did you think? Leave me a review by pressing the button down that a'way and tell me! I love reviews (and review**_**ers**_**, by fault). **

**Third chapter will be up who knows when, as with five people and only one computer, there isn't much time for me to take a whole two hours or so to type up a chapter. Sorry :(**


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